Notebook
nne of the charges sometimes levelled L./against the Spectator is that the paper is too incestuous, that the regular con- tributors spend too much time addressing each other instead of addressing the great issues on which our readers are thought to be yearning for enlightenment. Maybe there is a little bit of truth in this, though I have always thought the charge greatly exag- gerated. But in any event, we are no match for the Sunday Times. Last Sunday that newspaper devoted two whole pages to in- vestigating itself. It wanted to know why it had published a story the previous week about Mark Thatcher's bank account and whether its investigative methods were respectable or not, so it asked itself a whole lot of searching questions in the hope of finding the answers. It interviewed its own editor, Mr Andrew Neil, who fearlessly revealed that his own bank account at Drummonds Bank in Trafalgar Square was in credit. He argued that the investigation had been carried out 'in a responsible way' and that a certain amount of guile had been justified because 'if we went around prefac- ing every inquiry with "We're from the Sunday Times", we would never find out anything,' which is a sad comment on that paper's reputation. Although apparently convinced of its own rectitude, the Sunday Times still needed external reassurance. It turned first to Mr Harold Evans, its former editor and the man sacked by Rupert Mur- doch as editor of the Times, who amiably patted Mr Neil on the head. Only Sir William Rees-Mogg, Mr Evans's predecessor on the Times, refused to say what a good boy he had been. Still, Mr Neil appears to have been satisfied. In a leading article he congratulated his paper on 'the unprecedented step of investigating its own investigations' and concluded: 'A certain amount of guile was used to confirm the detail of the story. But if that is to be regarded as unprofessional conduct, then investigative journalism has no future in this country.' To cap it all he declared on television the same evening that it was fac- tually incorrect to suggest that his pro- prietor, Mr Murdoch, was at all cross with him. I don't think I have ever seen a newspaper look quite so silly. One area in which 'a certain amount of guile' is definitely desirable is in the business of defending oneself against thoroughly justified attacks.
Afriend tells me that his Lenten resolution has been to give up saying sorry to people who bump into him in the street. I am greatly impressed. I think I could give up practically anything except that. Indeed, my eagerness to please is so pathetic that I even declaim long and com- plicated apologies from inside my car to other motorists who are obviously unable to hear me. I then become deeply resentful and start swearing at them if they do not respond. I probably ought to go and see a psychiatrist about it. Another person who appears to suffer from the same disease is my colleague Colin Welch. When a black youth bumped into him at Shepherd's Bush last Tuesday, he apologis- ed profusely for being in the way. By the time he had finished saying how sorry he was the youth was sprinting away with his shoulder bag which contained not only his wallet and so on, but also his column for this week's Spectator. That is why there is no Colin Welch in this issue. Assuming he now abandons his unwise habit of carrying a bag, I feel confident that his column will be back next week.
What I have given up for Lent is alcohol, but not cigarettes. In the light of Nigel Lawson's Budget, which has made wine cheaper but cigarettes more ex- pensive, this seems a stupid thing to have done. It also makes going out in the even- ings very difficult, for whereas everybody still seems to drink rather a lot, practically nobody seems to smoke. My most testing evening so far was at Eton College last Monday, when I was fortunate enough to be invited to a glamorous dinner party given by my former school's admirable new head- master, Mr Eric Anderson. A vast selection of splendid wines were served, none of which I could touch, while among the 24 people present my wife and I were the only smokers. It looks as if I may have to give up smoking as well. The star among the guests was undoubtedly Commander Hucklesby, head of the Anti-Terrorist Squad at. Scotland Yard. In his effect on the women present he rivalled the Toreador in Carmen. It occurred to me that probably the most glamorous thing one can be nowadays is 3 policeman.
In addition to all the other measures he announced on Tuesday, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr Nigel Lawson' disclosed that the Government is going, t° spend at least £4 million on preserving Calke Abbey, the magnificent 18th-century house in Derbyshire. The house and its Con tents were under threat because the Treasury had been demanding £8 million tr; capital transfer tax from Calke's Presem owner, Mr Henry Harput-Crewe. The Treasury had also meanly refused to aceepi the house's 14,000-acre estate in lieu of tax, but the outcry was such that it has in Part relented and accepted the house and part ° the estate to a value of about £2 Mill,1,1; The result of all this is that the house will preserved with its remarkable contents in tact. But it will in future belong not thel HarpurrCrewe family but to the Nati°na,„ Trust, an undesirable change of ownership which will prove expensive for the taxpayer' Mr Lawson did at least reduce capita, transfer tax in his budget. Next time must summon up the courage to abolis!Itc`i altogether, as Mrs Thatcher once ProrInse, she would. The story of Calke Abbey 511°— what a disastrous tax it is.
rikespite their weakness for bloodsPo -1—,members of the Royal FaMilY 8.1-11 generally identified in the public mind iwitas love of animals. They are all keen on o°6':5 and horses, and the Duke of Edingborghdi a leading light in the World Wildlife Rini; This is as it should be. Most British Pe°PIt, love animals and they love the Royal Fa° more for loving them too. It was therefor`f quite understandable that the DtliceE°a_ Edingburgh should resign from the r.v.. plorers' Club of New York because it se' ed lion meat at dinner, even if, as the el% claims, the meat was bought front..sh rtse, reputable lion meat purveyor. The BrItthi people would love him less if they thong he enjoyed eating lions. but it is Possible 1,ve carry love of animals too far. There are carry many people so besotted with their Pets t as they come in the end to regard 111e1_,/1,,ot human. This is a delusion that shoulo be encouraged, and it was therefore 0111), some disapproval that I read in the_ ,9,11tier Telegraph this week that the Queen lvt°',,. had written a letter to a dog in Atistrab; She did so last year on the animal's 31St „n thday, presumably to congratulate it the reaching what for a human would beed grand old age of 217. The dog, which u32, in Queensland this week at the age .° the was reputed to be the oldest dog 111 world. But that did not mean it could re
Alexander Chance11°C
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